


Five Times Rose Tyler Felt Loved

by amorremanet



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 5 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angsty Schmoop, Character Study, Community: hc_bingo, Community: homebrewbingo, Declarations Of Love, Drabble Sequence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Requited Love, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-22
Updated: 2012-07-22
Packaged: 2017-11-10 04:52:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/462389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/pseuds/amorremanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Rose Tyler Felt Loved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This was written, first and foremost, for heyjudesie @ tumblr, who helped out when I was in a serious tight spot recently and prompted for, "five times Rose Tyler felt loved," with the stipulations that one drabble needed to be Rose/Ten and one needed to be Rose/Jack/Nine.
> 
> Other prompts used herein are: "learning to be loved" (for the wild card [at hc_bingo](http://amor-remanet.livejournal.com/545264.html)); "teasing/tickling" ([for homebrewbingo](http://amor-remanet.livejournal.com/546632.html)); and "pretending to be gay, auctions, love & passion, bruises/wounds, hurt/comfort, domesticity, massage, writing, crying" (as a single-line fill, also [for homebrewbingo](http://amor-remanet.livejournal.com/546979.html)).
> 
> The only major changes made to canon are: assuming that Rose and Martha could and did meet each other before "The Stolen Earth" and "Journey's End"; and inserting a mini-adventure in between "Boom Town" (and delivering Blon Slitheen's egg back to Raxacoricofallapatorius) and getting abducted into the events of, "Bad Wolf."

"Excuse me, Little Miss," snaps the voice on the other end of the phone, "but where in Creation did you say that that man's carted you off to this time?"

"What I said, Ms. Sarah Jane, is that the Doctor and I haven't the slightest idea where we are. But there is a black hole hanging over a sanctuary base, and the people working here seem just lovely, if you must know." Rose over-enunciates every syllable, putting on the best posh accent that she can manage. She tries to sound Stern, and Serious, and Not To Be Reckoned With, but still, she can't help laughing.

And it's just like Sarah Jane to bring that out in her.

Sarah Jane could bring it out in anybody—she has that way about her, the one where she's warm and, even when she's sharpish and snarky, she can make you feel right at home—but she brings it out in Rose more than anybody else does. It's that understanding they have as the Doctor's companions in his adventures. It's the way that Sarah Jane knows better than anybody else how it feels, when he's all sweet, and kind, and affectionate one moment, then in the next one, looking at you like you're the kid who eats paste.

And it's the way that Sarah Jane's voice goes deadly serious as she tells Rose, "Don't forget, Little Miss: you're allowed to tell him that you don't need to be somewhere—or some- _when_ , like it goes with him sometimes. If it looks dangerous enough, you drag that man back onto the TARDIS and don't listen to a word he says otherwise—do I make myself clear?"

"Absolutely crystal, Love. Don't worry. I'll behave and make sure the Doctor does. As best as either of us can, anyway," says Rose with a snicker, just before she and Sarah Jane hang up. She almost calls back when they figure out that they've lost the TARDIS, but her mobile only has so much charge left in it. She'll need it to ring up Mum, when she and the Doctor get out of here. Just to let Mum know what they've been up to lately. In case Rose remembers.

And anyway, her chest's still warm and fuzzy from talking to Sarah Jane—from the part where Sarah Jane actually believes that Rose can put a collar on their Doctor—and Rose can't take believing that away from her Sarah Jane. Not in a million years or more.

*******

Rose finds Jenny out in space, and over the course of the few days she takes trying to find where the Doctor and Donna Noble have got off to this time, she tells the poor girl everything. She figures that Jenny deserves to know—not just because she found some random cheeky blonde stowed away in her rocket.

She tells Jenny all about where she came from and what she's doing in this universe. That she's a friend of Jenny's father, that they used to travel through time and space together, that the fate of both universes hangs in the balance for reasons that no one's quite put together yet—but Torchwood from Rose's side of the universe has figured that countless timelines are all converging around Donna Noble and what she can do. Resting on her.

"Well, best of luck to both our universes, then," says Jenny from underneath the on-the-fritz set of controls she's fixing. She her eyes, getting that tone that the Doctor used to get sometimes—the one that screams, _honestly, why aren't you keeping up with this, it's simple isn't it_. "She really didn't seem like all that much to me. And she kept calling me a kid when I'm not, talking to me like I'm some child—I mean, do I look like a kid to you?"

Rose sighs and shakes her head, admits that Jenny doesn't look like a kid at all, and hands her down the wrench she needs. "On the younger side, maybe, but not by all that much, really. Anyways, you're handling yourself too well to be a kid. But," she tacks on, arching an eyebrow in Jenny's direction, "what you're missing here is that Donna doesn't look like much, but she has to be."

"And why's that then? Why's the universe got to go resting on the shoulders of some loud, obnoxious, petty little woman from Who-even-knows-where? What's so special about her?"

Oh, jealousy. There's a little bit of Jenny's actual age sneaking out in there—not a lot of it, and not exactly her actual age, but it's closer to her age than she's _been_ acting—and Rose can't help smirking. Sure, Jenny the bred soldier, who's choosing to be something more, to go and learn things in the universe instead of helping to destroy it. Who acts like she's a grown woman, but still gets jealous over the thought that Donna might be more special than she is. The thought of how her father took Donna with him instead of her.

There's a little bit of her father creeping out there, too. Some excitement underneath the jealousy. Like the way he gets when he finds some time he doesn't know about, or something that doesn't make sense, or a species he's never met before.

And Rose could just stand here, reminiscing about the Doctor all day, but Jenny kicks at her shin and asks if she's still alive out there or what. Rose says that she is. "Anyway, as I was telling you," she sighs. "We can't figure out what Donna Noble's going to do. Or what's going to happen when she does, or if she doesn't. But she _is_ special. She's important."

"Guess she must be. She's more important than his daughter and everything. I bet Saint Donna couldn't tell any of my tools apart from each other, or fight in a war, or anything else that I've done." Jenny huffs and kicks at the floor. Her boot clangs on the metal, sends the toolbox clattering to the other side of the room.

Rose sighs and retrieves it. Leans back on the control panel, grateful that it's been deactivated while Jenny's fixing it because at least she doesn't have to be careful about sitting on it, and folds her arms over her chest. There's nothing she really knows to say in this situation, and she hates having to improvise it. Why can't they just teach people how to handle situations like this.

Probably because nobody could plan on ending up in them, then. Or on them being half as delicate as this one is. Because it's not as though Jenny's wrong in thinking any of what she's thinking, is it? Rose has been in her shoes before—she's seen the updated files on the Doctor and the companions he's had since her, and she's wondered things like, _What's so great about Donna Noble? What's so special about Martha Jones that you picked her up when you couldn't even tell me… whatever they were, the last things you wanted to say?_

"I know it doesn't seem like it now, Jenny," she says and tries not to sound too tired or too pedantic, "but the Doctor wouldn't just leave you behind for no reason. He doesn't take people along with him for no reason, and he doesn't leave people behind for no reason. Maybe it doesn't make sense right now, but I've seen him refuse to kill some of the most dangerous creatures in the universe because he would've risked killing all these people who trusted him and didn't deserve to die."

"Sounds like a good move for him to make," Jenny supposes in this cold, perfunctory tone that makes the hair on the back of Rose's neck prick up. "Good for him and Saint Donna. They're probably going to save the universe together, aren't they. That's why she had to go along with him and why I couldn't."

"We can't be sure," Rose says. "That's the possibility we're assuming—prepare for the worst possible circumstances and all, y'know. But even if we can't tell exactly what's going to happen, we have to trust him about Donna. Even without all of this, without all the universe's in danger and fabric of time-space unraveling parts, the Doctor doesn't take on just anybody as his companion. He never does."

"Well, of course not, how could he—I mean, he took you on, didn't he?" Jenny rolls her little dolly out and smiles up at Rose. Not a smirk or something with an edge in it, but a genuine, toothy grin that strains the limits of her face, presses into these little dimples that Rose hasn't seen on her before. "It's not just anybody who could break out of a parallel universe, put that one and this one in all kinds of danger but manage not to destroy them, and chase a Time Lord through the whole of time and space, all in the name of saving both of the universes. Least, I reckon it's not just anybody, is it."

Rose shrugs and hands Jenny the screwdriver that she wants. She supposes that it's not just anybody, but on the other hand, she's also got a lot of help from Torchwood and her friends back there. Not to mention the Doctor, who's been helping her, even if he doesn't know he has, even without them being together anymore. Jenny hesitates a moment, blinking up at Rose, and she asks how he could manage that, then. How much of a superhero is he that he can help somebody without being there at all.

"He brings out the best in people, even when they can't see it themselves," Rose explains gently. "I was just a nobody when he found me. That's what I thought, anyway. Who could ever want anything big out of me, I didn't get any A-levels or have any future I could see. Nothing I was looking forward to, anyway. Just some little blonde thing, nineteen, workin' in a shop—least I was until he sorta blew it up. Wasn't sure at all what I wanted to do with myself or anything. Thought I'd never amount to nothing…

"But he helped me put all that right. Helped me sort it all out." There's no way to really make this easier to hear much less understand, or to put it in terms that make sense without traveling with the Doctor, but Rose has got to try. For Jenny. Because this poor thing's been left alone in her world. Without a family or somebody to travel with her, or even a worst enemy. And even Rose can't hang around for as long as she'd like to, because there are bigger thing out there, putting Jenny and so many others at risk.

"That's what he does, Jenny," she says, "he helps people who need it, in ways that they don't even really see or understand. And it's not something that he just does without thinking about it. The sort of powers he's got—the sort of abilities that you've got—he can't just do whatever he feels like just because he feels like it. He can see all the ways that things fit together, and how changing one little thing can change the fabric of everything. So if he left you here… it's because the timeline needs you here. Because whatever you're going to do here… it's just as important as whatever Donna's going to do."

For a moment, Jenny looks almost like she's pouting. Without a word, she slides back into her work again. Goes quiet for a long moment, leaving Rose with just the sound of her metal instruments clanging on the metal inside the control panel. With a groan, she slides back out and regards Rose with a face that makes her look like a particularly irate kitten. Rose wants to snicker at this, or grin at Jenny, or something—but somehow, she thinks that Jenny might not take that well. Teasing's all fine and good, but for right now? Probably not the best plan.

"So how'd you put it right, then?" she snaps, voice wavering and resolve behind her irritation faltering. "What d'you want to do with yourself? How'd traveling with him get you to realize what you're supposed to be doing out there in the whole, big ol' universe?"

And that's when her facade falls away completely. When her whole face falls. Jenny's eyes go wide, expectant. For the first time since Rose has been here with her, she looks so close to her age. There's innocence in there. A wonder about the universe and all of what's in it—and a quiver to her lips that's unmistakable as worry. Worry that she's got this legacy to live up to and that she'll never manage it. Worry that she's got great power and not enough responsibility to handle it.

And maybe a little bit like she's realizing what Rose is talking about—as though she's seeing things like a Time Lord instead of like a girl who wants to be more than the soldier she was designed to be. Rose has seen that look before. On two different faces of Jenny's father, usually when he had something to say about how he could feel all the planets' revolutions and see the strings that connected everything to everything else. And even if it looks different on Jenny, Rose would know it anywhere.

Rose shrugs and smiles down at the poor girl. "He picked me up out of my life and took me off to learn what's out there," she says. "That's it. That's all he did. He took care about keeping the fabric of everything preserved and he showed me the big ol' universe—the whole wide thing. Showed me that I had more in me than I thought, or than anybody ever thought."

Jenny sighs, and mulls this over for a moment. She drops the screwdriver and curls a grease-covered hand up around Rose's ankle, brushes it up the back of her calf. "I think I'm gonna find somebody," she says, barely above a whisper. "Somebody to go traveling with. And whoever I find, Rose Tyler? I hope that they're as fantastic as you."

Blinking, smiling down at Jenny, Rose can't help the little laugh that she chokes out. Her heart leaps up into her throat, and it's just a miracle she doesn't tell Jenny how very much she just sounded like her father.

*******

After they take a certain egg back to Raxacoricofallapatorius, Rose finds herself on a new planet whose name she can't pronounce, much less because the Doctor only said the name once before he and Captain Jack wound up tugged into an auction. Put up on some stage as a matched set to be bought and bid on.

There's nothing unseemly about it, not really. Maybe the part where the announcer keeps referring to them as antique specimens from a far-off world… but they can just live with that, in Rose's opinion, because the rest of everything seems perfectly above-ground from where she's sitting? It's all to raise money for some children's hospital, anyway, and there are rules about what people are allowed to do with their living prizes.

They did a few charity auctions like this when Rose was back in school—buy a date with someone, buy them as a servant for the day, or a tutor or whatever else, and the money goes to fund the school play or the class trip or some other lovely thing like that. And building a children's hospital sounds like a much better use of people's time and money than a class camping trip or getting new sets and costumes for the drama class's spring production of _Romeo and Juliet_.

The play wound up not being all that great anyway.

And for all she almost lets them get picked up by someone else—an adorable little old lady and a native of this planet—Rose won't really let her boys get subjected to anything they wouldn't want. She just waits for them to get desperate first. Waits for them to actually think that she might resign them to a day of cleaning out some other woman's catbox. Waits Jack to slouch at the hips, drop his shoulders, and get a wobbly hint of worry behind that cocky smirk he's always wearing.

Rose waits for her Doctor to start making eyes at her like, _but, Rose, you wouldn't. Not that this isn't a very noble cause, building hospitals for children and all of that rot, but why're you making me wait like this, Rose. Rose, this isn't really very nice of you. Rose, I don't appreciate this. Rose, I mean it, stop playing like you're going to let Mrs. Ytigat out-bid you_ —and no matter how many sad faces he puts on for her, Rose keeps this up until he makes good on one of his more recent promises.

That is: until her Doctor grabs Captain Jack's face and kisses him full on the beautiful mouth. Holds on to the lip-lock until Jack snakes his arms underneath the Doctor's leather jacket and around his waist, until they're close enough to rut up against each other, until they have to jerk back and gasp for breath.

Rose barely pays attention to however much she bids on them, after that. It's not as though they really have to worry, not when the Doctor's psychic paper can handle money issues for them. All that matters is that it's too much for Mrs. Ytigat to match, and Rose gets her gentlemen back to the TARDIS, safe and sound. And that the three of them are all primed and ready for an adventure to… wherever they end up next. Jack's thinking that Kyoto might be fun, and the Doctor thinks Jack's on to something with that idea.

Rose isn't entirely sure what she's trying to accomplish—if anything—when she says that, wherever they end up, she'd sure love to find herself in the middle of whatever they were playing at back on the stage. But she knows that her face hurts from grinning when her Captain and her Doctor agree that they could both enjoy that idea.

"But is that an _order_ you're giving us, Ms. Tyler," Jack teases, with his smirk amped back up to its usual level of cheekiness. "Because you _did_ win the ability to order us around for the day."

Rose laughs and slaps him on the bum, then does the same to the Doctor, just so she can get both of them. "That's right, it is," she tells them. "Let's hurry up and get me into the middle of whatever you boys were playing at, because it looked like some proper fun, and it's just not fair of you to keep me out of that."

The Doctor rolls his eyes, but chuckles anyway and more than goes along with the idea—and as she leans back into Jack's chest, lets him wrap his arms around her waist, Rose knots her fingers up in the Doctor's leather jacket, drags him down into a kiss.

*******

Trailing around after the Doctor and Donna gets exhausting, though, and when Rose needs a few moments' peace, she heads back down to Earth. To a place she's come to think of as home, since her Mum and Dad, Mickey and Jake, they're all back in the other universe. So, her associates set her up with something that's supposed to be nice. Which isn't the word Rose would use for it until things are winding down to their very end.

It's awkward, at first, shacking up with Tom and Martha. For one thing, they're engaged, Rose is an interloper from another universe, and well, that's just a recipe for elephants to go letting themselves in, uninvited, and setting themselves up on the sofa, isn't it. For another thing, though the two of them are doctors—and proper doctors, too, with medical licenses and Hippocratic Oaths and ethical precepts and everything, which makes Rose feel like a right proper idiot, talking to them, sometimes, even when she knows she's not.

On top of everything else, though there's the part that Rose and Martha don't talk ever about, even though it's one of the biggest things that they have in common. The part that hangs around in every conversation, even when they're in good moods and not stumbling all over how they're supposed to talk to each other. The part that Martha deliberately doesn't speak hide or hair of when Tom's around to maybe hear it. The part that made Torchwood ask for Martha to act as Rose's homestead in the first place: their experiences with the Doctor.

But they manage to find a habit, of sorts. Martha finds ways of sending Rose letters when she's gone, leaving them in places and sending texts back and forth on their TARDIS-altered mobiles, telling Rose how to get to them. Rose tries to be cheeky in the texts she fires back— _Why's it always gotta be me who gets the milk? I can't even say when I'll be back though, you'd better have Tom pick up the milk_ —but it never really feels like it's translating. She never really feels like she and Martha are getting comfortable with each other.

She's not so sure that she can blame Martha for that, either. Not when Martha insists that she only asks about the Doctor in terms of business— _what was he up to on this adventure, has he noticed you yet because we need him and we're running out of time, what in creation possessed him to take that Donna woman to a library where those people-eating shadows live_ —and not when it's so obvious why she doesn't want Tom to hear anything. Like recognizes like, and Rose probably knows what sort of effect the Doctor has on people better than anybody else Martha could have living on her futon.

But just when she's getting used to how things are going—getting used to arguing over who should get the milk or sniping at each other over their tastes in takeaway, not exactly getting close or comfortably but finding a routine that works—Rose pops back in and the flat seems so _quiet_ and so _empty_. Like a mausoleum or something. She finds Martha sitting at the kitchen table by herself, with a cold cup of milk-less, sugarless tea. It's nighttime, but the lights are off in the whole flat, which is stranger than the fact that Martha's alone. Tom might be working late with one of his kids—but when Rose presses her, Martha just shakes her head and asks for one of Rose's neck-rubs, please.

For all she's still confused, Rose is happy enough to oblige, gently kneading her thumbs into the back of Martha's neck, working them down to where neck merges with shoulders, squeezing at all the knots of tension that Martha's let herself build up. Underneath her handiwork, Martha mostly sighs, and just once, she lets slip a moan—which makes Rose perk up. Makes her even more confused. Martha never moans when Rose works on her neck. Never. She always saves that kind of noise for Tom. It doesn't make any sense.

Rose only means to take off her jacket when she pauses, but as she tosses it back on one of the chairs, something makes Martha startle. Fix her eyes on Rose's arm and whispers _oh my God_ … Rose blinks down and sees the huge dark spot on her forearm, the start of a rather enormous-looking bruise. With a sigh, she shrugs and wonders how that even got there, supposes something must've happened at work, because things got a little bit rocky while trying to send transmissions to where the Doctor is right now. Some planet called Midnight.

And before Rose knows what's even going on, one of Martha's hands is curled around her wrist. The other one's lost up in her hair. And without so much as a word of explanation, Martha tugs Rose down into a kiss. One that Rose finds herself reciprocating—she never would've guessed that she'd kiss back. Or that Martha would kiss her in the first place. But still, she moves her chapped lips against Martha's smooth ones and tastes their faint hint of minty lip balm. She opens her mouth for Martha's tongue, curls her own around Martha's, lets Martha suck on it, suck like she wants to get the oxygen out of Rose's lungs.

She doesn't succeed in that. They both need to breathe before Martha can get too much of that done, and they both let themselves fall into each other, forehead resting against forehead, nose knocking into nose. With her free hand, Rose reaches up, brushes the backs of her fingers down Martha's cheek and asks what that was, then, since she's pretty sure the answer's not _something Tom would approve of, if he could be here and saw it._

"Tom left," Martha whispers into Rose's mouth, stealing another kiss and nipping at Rose's lip as she does so. "I came home tonight and we talked it over, and… the engagement's off. It's over. And you know what the crazy thing about it is? I don't even really think I mind?"

Rose laughs a little bit at that, but only because Martha's laughing, too. Neither of them are loud about it. They're barely laughs. They're more like upbeat breaths, if anybody wants to get technical. She cups Martha's jaw, and smiles, squeals into Martha's mouth as she takes another kiss. It's only after a few more that Rose hazards asking, "What'd he say, then? When you two talked it over? Was it about… you know… the Doctor?"

Martha shakes her head and makes a pensive, humming noise. "That's what I expected him to say, too, though," she says. "It was either that or, 'Babe, I think you're still enamored with a version of me that doesn't really exist, the one in that other timeline,' but no… No, he thought…" Blushing, she trails off for a moment. Looks down at the scant amount of space left between their bodies. Mutters, "Tom thought I fancied you more than I loved him."

Rose isn't sure if she ought to laugh or feel guilty. So, instead, she brushes her thumb down Martha's cheek and says, "Well… was he right?"

Martha snorts. Beams as she looks up at Rose and admits, "You know what? I wasn't expecting that either, but… He kind of was, yeah. He was _so_ right."

*******

After leaving Bad Wolf Bay for the second time, even lacing up her fingers with a human Doctor, Rose feels this unnatural chill. One she knows is psychosomatic because she runs through all the tests that her universe's Torchwood has to offer and they find absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. That'd explain why she can't get away from it, either.

Lately, Rose can't escape any part of this. Everywhere feels the same. She carries the cold with her—she shivers in the middle of meetings for reasons that her superiors don't question and that she can't explain, even knowing that they know all of what happened with the Doctor and Donna and the Daleks. She shudders when she pops round to Mum and Dad's for tea, when she chases little Tony 'round the garden in one of their games, and when she pauses for too long and starts thinking she can hear the TARDIS.

She trembles when she reclines into John's arms and leans on his chest while they watch the telly, catches herself crying in the middle of their shows with no idea why, lets John wipe his thumb down her cheeks and kiss her. (That's what they've taken to calling the Doctor-but-Not. The version of the Doctor who came out of Human/Time Lord Meta-Crisis. He needed work to keep himself sane, he needed a name to get work, and John Smith was easy enough, even Rose has needed some time to get used to it.)

And she feels the same, no matter where she goes or how much she tries to smile. She feels… not exactly empty, but confused. Unsure of how she's supposed to feel. Much less whether or not she's feeling anything at all. She wishes that there were guidebooks for this sort of thing—as though someone could even write a book like that.

What would they even call that book? _How To Get Over Settling Down With Another Version Of The Time Lord You've Loved More Fiercely Than You've Ever Loved Anybody Else, Who's Almost Exactly Like The Real Thing Except That He's Not_. Why would anyone even bother writing it. It sure as Hell wouldn't top anybody's best sellers list, and Rose is the only person she knows who'd buy it.

And that's the thing about John. He's almost exactly like the Doctor. He looks like him, and he talks like him and his hair sticks up in the same gravity-defying way that the Doctor's did after his regeneration—but he understands people so much more. He has an easier time with knowing what Rose needs to hear and when she needs to hear it. He can fit in with other people. He doesn't feel the earth rotating underneath his feet, and he doesn't see the strings that tie everything to everything else, making up that big, ineffable fabric, the whole of time and space.

For God's sake, he's working in a bloody shop, just shelving things and taking stocks and checking people out, like Rose before she met her Doctor. And he has the Doctor's memories, but he doesn't want to see the stars. He thinks people and the trappings of a normal life are the greatest adventure that he could hope for—second only to Rose herself, and loving her. He doesn't even like the sound of going on holiday to Italy, or Greece, or any place that's more exciting than London.

Well, it's not as though he's outright against the ideas, but he doesn't see why they'd need to travel any further than Edinburgh or why Rose gets such a rush from stargazing and pretending they could actually travel to Raxacoricofallapatorius or somewhere else that's big and different and exciting. Where's the promise of him being born in the heat of battle, and made of blood and revenge, and needing her to calm him down and make him better? Did he have to get _this_ calm?

Is it really so much to ask that they have a little adventure in their lives? Is it really so much for her not to want John to understand her so well?

"Well, I think it was a fair enough thing, what the Doctor did for you," Mum says after they've been back two months and a bit over, on one Sunday afternoon when Rose has off work, John's down at the shop, and Rose pops around for lunch. "No, I mean it, Sweetheart. I think it was quite right of him to leave you behind and send John to be here with you. It's like he said—John needs you."

"I know it's not what you want to hear, Rose," Dad chimes in, looking up from where he's trying to get Tony to eat without playing with his food. "But I think your mother's right about it. I mean, he's letting you have a life and have him in it without needing to give up everything else—isn't that… well. It might not be what you wanted, but it's the best compromise that you could hope for. And doesn't he understand the human element of things more than the Doctor ever did?"

"But John's not the Doctor," Rose tells them. "The Doctor would want adventure. The Doctor would want to get out there and… He couldn't tell me that he loved me. But I'd be all right with not hearing that, if he'd just… John wouldn't have to tell me that he loves me if he'd just want to get out there and see things past the bloody garden. You know what I'm saying?"

"Well, maybe that's the Doctor's gift to you, Sweetheart," says Mum. "Think about what your life was like before he wandered into it and showed you all of those mad things out there in space. …Maybe the gift is that you get to do that for him now—or, well. Do it for John. Show him how having a nice life together doesn't have to be quiet. Show him it doesn't have to be limited to fights about takeaway and watchin' the telly all the time. Maybe you won't be fighting Daleks, but you can get back home and _drag_ that man out on a holiday with you, if you have to. You get to be John's Doctor, then, don't you. Pretty big show of faith in you, I'd say."

Rose can't think up any argument for that. Maybe she could, but she sure doesn't want to bother. It's the first thing that's made her smile since they've got back from saving all of creation.

She doesn't have a TARDIS. She can't travel the whole of time and space. She's probably not going to see the stars ever again in her lifetime—but she's got a whole new role. Somebody to love, somebody to teach while she loves him. And she doesn't have to wait for the Doctor anymore. That was his gift to her. A life without him that she doesn't have to spend trying to get back to him. Instead, she gets to be him to somebody else.

Rose doesn't run home after lunch. She runs the whole way down to John's shop and she scoops him up in her arms. Kisses him even though he's on a shift and they're standing in front of more customers than Rose feels like acknowledging. John's a gift from the Time Lord who's loved her better than anybody, and Rose isn't going to let another second pass wherein she doesn't make the most of it.


End file.
